


The Serenades of Wolf Blood

by barbiefairyprincess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Arya is tired of men, F/M, Gendry Waters is a Baratheon, Gendry is pretty smitten with Arya tho, Jaime and Arya are lowkey besties, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Prince Gendry Waters, Sansa and Gendry are betrothed, She just wants to explore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25800211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbiefairyprincess/pseuds/barbiefairyprincess
Summary: Arya desperately wants to witness everything the world has to offer; the canals of Braavos, the sands of Dorne, the grasses of the Dothraki Sea. She wants to dance with Needle in her hand and feel her wolf blood sing. However, this is not the life of a highborn lady. Between a tourney, the unwanted attentions of a prince, and a chance to finally claim a precious trickle of glory for herself, will Arya finally discover the chance to dictate her future and, with it, someone to help her navigate it?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Aegon VI Targaryen, Jaime Lannister & Arya Stark, Sansa Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 29
Kudos: 116





	The Serenades of Wolf Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is aged up a little bit
> 
> Gendry - 20  
> Aegon - 20  
> Sansa - 18  
> Arya - 16
> 
> This is meant to be pretty light and it will only be a few chapters so pls don't take it too seriously <3

“Your father’s guard is out searching for you, my lady.” 

Arya didn’t turn to glance at the knight who’d appeared at her shoulder, opting instead to examine the wares of a stall selling chunks of colourful rock masterfully carved into a dozen different animals; cats and snakes and lions among them. The streets of Kings Landing were bustling around her, the sounds and smells of the city heightened by the influx of people arriving for the tourney honouring the Crown Prince’s twentieth nameday. She turned away from the little stall and its disappointed tender to continue her morning exploration.

“They can’t possibly expect me to stay cooped up in that awful castle, drinking tea with Sansa and Margaery Tyrell, while the remainder of the city is preparing for the largest tourney to be held during Robert’s reign?” Arya complained to the smirking, golden Kingsguard beside her. “Surely, my dear ser, you recognise that as the heinous crime it is!” 

Ser Jaime chuckled and rested his hand on the golden hilt of his sword as he strolled languidly beside her. He was resplendent in his white armour, his golden hair shining even in the dinginess of the street. “You argue a strong case, my lady. However, I am bound by duty to escort you back to the castle immediately, or else the Lord Hand may see fit to declare me a dishonourable, incapable lech and have me removed from the Kingsguard.” 

Arya rolled her eyes in response. She watched in a despondent mix of amusement and envy as a grubby group of children ran past her giggling and pushing one another in jest. “We couldn’t have that could we?” She muttered, before turning pleading eyes on him. “Please can we visit the Street of Steel before then? Just for a moment. Father would never know.” 

For a moment she thought he might disagree, but then he sighed and shook his head in exasperation and she knew she had him. “Fine, but only for a moment.” 

She only grinned in response.

oOo

When Arya returned to the castle the sun was high in the sky and she was in much better spirits than when she’d left earlier that day. She loved exploring the Street of Steel. There she’d examine longswords and bastard swords, decorative daggers, and blades as skinny as Needle. This time, with a tourney right around the corner, the street had been bursting with preparing knights and Ser Jaime and scoffed at the pomposity of their adorned armour. As though he was in any position to do so. The knight’s head was thrown back in laughter as she retold a bawdy jest she’d heard from the Greatjon in Winterfell as they entered the Red Keep’s courtyard. However, they both quickly sobered when they caught sight of Ned Stark waiting for them. 

“Father,” she called as she approached. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jaime make a hasty escape towards the keep. Traitor.  
As usual, Ned Stark didn’t look angry at her antics, only tired. Arya immediately felt slightly guilty for worrying her father unnecessarily. He regarded her with warm grey eyes and the line between his eyebrows softened as he took in her worn breeches and tunic, marred now with the dust and dirt of the city. 

“I had half my guard out after you, little wolf. You shouldn’t disappear without telling anybody.” 

Arya frowned at that, even as she accepted the arm he offered to escort her into the castle proper. “If I told anyone where I was going they would stop me from leaving at all. You know that.” She stared resolutely at her feet as they made their way towards their family’s apartments. 

She heard her father sigh as he pat her arm reassuredly, “Aye, but within the week the tourney will have begun and you’ll be able to attend as many events as you wish.” He chuckled then, “You’ll have more excitement than you’ll know what to do with, Arya, and for a moment your wolf blood will sing.” 

He was right, she knew, but Arya desperately wanted her blood to sing for a lifetime.

oOo

At dinner, Arya was seated directly across from her sister and Gendry Baratheon. Sansa looked impossibly pretty in a gown the same blue as her eyes and her auburn hair shone in the candlelight of the Great Hall. Arya had been swindled out of her breeches by Septa Mordane and was forced into a simple grey dress with embroidery around the neck and bodice that itched constantly. She’d expertly avoided the handmaidens, who were armed to the teeth with combs and hairpins, and instead, her hair fell in a long northern braid down her back. As such, she could feel the prince’s dark gaze lingering on her collarbone as she tore into a bread roll and listened to Sansa chatter incessantly about gods knew what from her spot beside her royal betrothed. Quite possibly the joys of childbirth or something equally as concerning. 

Prince Gendry, Arya had decided when she met him, was a bullheaded idiot. She couldn’t deny that one day he’d make a fine king. He loved his people fiercely and did not share his father’s taste for wine and whores. He was also impossibly handsome; tall and broad, with coal-black hair and eyes the colour of the Sunset Sea. It was no surprise how quickly and thoroughly Sansa had become enamoured with him. Neither was it surprising when the king had announced that their Houses would be united through a marriage between the eldest Baratheon son and the eldest Stark daughter. Sansa would one day be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and push out beautiful babies with dark hair and blue eyes. She never shut up about it. 

What nobody had expected however, was for Gendry Baratheon, Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, to beg an audience with the King’s Hand and request his daughter’s hand in marriage. His younger daughter’s hand. It was the single most humiliating day of Arya’s young life. Sansa had been beyond distressed and had screamed at Arya for hours afterward, accusing her of seducing the prince behind her back, which was complete folly. Arya had barely even spoken to the prince, let alone seduced him. Queen Cersei, whose dislike for Arya was apparent, had been wroth with her son and the idea was dismissed almost immediately, to Arya’s immense relief. Sansa had yet to fully forgive her for the imagined slights she’d committed. 

After catching Gendry looking at her for no less than the seventh time since the beginning of dinner, Arya searched the room desperately for a distraction. Instead, she locked eyes with Jaime, who was positioned against the wall behind the queen. His gaze flicked momentarily to his nephew and he smirked, his eyes twinkling. Jaime had never been quiet about how amusing he found the entire situation, something which notably grated his royal twin. The epitome of maturity, Arya pulled a face at him in response. 

Unfortunately, Ned Stark chose that moment to turn to her and caught the action. He didn’t seem surprised as he silently returned to his food in resignation and Arya felt herself flush a deep red. 

“What part of the tourney are you most excited for Lady Arya?”

Arya’s head snapped up and Sansa’s conversation with Margaery Tyrell ceased as Gendry addressed her. Her throat suddenly felt very dry .

“The melee,” she replied. “The joust as well I suppose, but I’d much rather be riding in it than watching it.”

Gendry, to her disappointment, seemed intrigued by that and was about to comment further when Margaery let out an airy laugh from her place beside Sansa, “A woman competing in a tilt? What an idea, Lady Arya.” 

“I hear Lady Brienne of Tarth is competing in the melee.” Arya snapped back. “Why not a tilt? I can likely sit a horse better than half the men registered to compete.”

Sansa looked positively scandalised at the idea, “Oh don’t be so ridiculous Arya. You haven’t the faintest idea how to joust. You’d be unseated within the first round.” 

Arya glanced back at Jaime, looking unbothered with his hand resting lazily on his sword hilt, and an idea began to take form in her head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading!! Pls review I'd really appreciate it :))


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